Hector put his hands on his head in despair, which let me know he didn’t have a killer instinct.
“Best you stay out of a game you can’t play, Hector,” I warned.
“I guess so. This shit’s freaking me out.”
I smiled. “Then my job is done. Come on. It’s getting late, and I need to check in with the guys.”
Remnants of dust kicked up as a soft breeze blew onto the farm. As we talked and I got out the walkies from my back room, I looked at my watch. Seven o’clock.
“Let’s go. We need time to set up on the hill. I got the binoculars packed.”
“Okay, I’m ready.” Hector’s face was pale, and he was sweating even though it was cool.
“Okay, good. Let me show you how the Outlaws do it.”
Eighteen
Amber
“Can I see Warden Smith? I have an appointment with him this morning.”
Another visit to USP Atwater, and it was fast becoming my second home. The office administrator behind the glass gave me a weary look. She looked worn down.
Warden Smith came out of the office, greeting me with a wide smile. “Amber, always a pleasure. Come through.”
I followed Warden Smith to the back room and passed all the others working in the office. They all turned their heads to look at me. I’d been trying to organize this meeting for months with him.
We made it to a small meeting room, and the standard jug of water was on the table. Warden Smith hitched up his pants. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, cream and one sugar,” I replied in a business-like tone. My stomach led the way in letting me know that Warden Smith might have the hots for me. His gaze lingered a little too long for my liking.
“Coming right up. I will be right back.”
Warden Smith left the office, and I breathed deep as I spread out my evidence. I was here on prison reform business. Some of it was reinforced by Colt’s stories of the conditions he’d faced. Warden Smith came back five minutes later with two cups full of hot liquid. I could smell the coffee beans. He placed the cup in front of me. He, too, had a stack of paperwork in front of him.
“So, Amber, how are you doing?”
I got comfortable in my seat. “I’m doing great, Warden. I’ve wanted this meeting for the longest time.”
“I know. I’m glad we’ve gotten around to it. Let’s talk about it. What do you have for me?” He slapped his knee.
“Well, I want to commend you first on how you run the prison in terms of problem-solving. If an issue arises in my dealings with you, you have been quick to correct it.”
Stroke the ego first. Warden Smith poked out his chest with pride. “Thank you, Amber. Go on.”
“Having said that, at USP Atwater, there is a significant increase in suicide in jail cells. Also, there is a marked increase in inmates with mental health conditions, who strike out by murdering other inmates. The conditions in solitary confinement are dismal, and prisoners are being exposed to toxic metals when they are working outdoors. This is my hope for USP Atwater.” I slid across a pamphlet for Hawaiian jails that showed how clean and neat they were. It also showed the plethora of prison programs available.
Warden Smith belly-laughed “You can’t be serious. Hawaii? These men are hardcore prisoners. They don’t need a home away from home.”
“Not all of them are, and if the plan is to reform them so that they don’t re-offend, we have to at least give them the right environment to thrive and gain the skills to go back into society. Not all of the prisoners at USP are lifers,” I said passionately.
“I see what you’re trying to do. What would this do for us?”
“It would reduce the number of dead bodies in your cells. Reduce the paperwork. Allow you to gain more funding if you have a healthy prison, and allow you to ultimately place more money back in your pocket.”
I waited for the warden to comprehend what I was saying. “Okay. What is your first step?”
I eased him into it. “Report the numbers and file a report to the federal government to apply for funding.”
